


A Good Old Fashioned Smiting

by HipHopAnonymous



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Corporal Punishment, Footnotes, Gen, Non-Consensual Spanking, Non-Sexual Spanking, Over the Knee, Paddling, Punishment, Spanking, Wooden Ruler
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-03 19:42:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20458421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HipHopAnonymous/pseuds/HipHopAnonymous
Summary: Gabriel shows up at the bookshop to scold Aziraphale regarding a forgotten assignment. The Archangel doesn't want to get the Principality intoomuch trouble (and certainly doesn't want to deal with a bunch ofpaperwork, Heaven forbid), but Aziraphale must be punished. Gabriel decides to take matters into his own hands in the bookshop, off the record.





	A Good Old Fashioned Smiting

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this work was inspired by the phrase "A good, old fashioned smiting" used by [vol_ctrl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vol_ctrl/pseuds/vol_ctrl) in the fic [The World of Our Creation [An Omen of Imagination]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20124586/chapters/47675092) The fic is not about spanking at all, but that phrase just cracked me up and burrowed itself into my mind.
> 
> The idea of a "blessed" spanking implement was inspired by [AnotherTestament's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherTestament/pseuds/AnotherTestament) lovely rare-pair Beelzebub & Michael spanking fic [Unexpected Consequences](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20388583).
> 
> Consider this story tangentially related to [Spare the Rod](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19402681/chapters/46173514). If you'd like it to take place in the same universe, then it does; otherwise, it stands alone!
> 
> Last, but not least, thank you to the anonymous ask on Tumblr requesting some Good Omens spontaneous spanking scenarios. It made me think up the little nugget that became this fic!

“I’ve got to say, Aziraphale, I’m really disappointed in you,” Gabriel made a lipless grimace and shook his head, hands clasped at his front. They stood in the backroom of the bookshop where Aziraphale had quickly ushered the Archangel before he could start shouting about pornography or something equally bizarre to the human patrons milling about the shelves.

Aziraphale’s face burned with shame. His heart still hammered in his chest, not yet recovered from Gabriel’s unexpected drop-in and the sudden, sinking recollection of the assignment he had completely forgotten. He remembered now that the memo was hidden beneath a small stack of far more interesting books. He’d _meant_ to see to it, but it had just slipped his mind. _Fuck._

His first instinct was to weasel out of trouble, fibbing and flubbing while he tried not to tremble, blood rushing in his ears. Gabriel had tactlessly called him out on it, of course, and then he had to admit to the lying on top of the shirking. Aziraphale’s goose was cooked.

“I’m so very sorry, Gabriel, really, it’s just that … I just … forgot. There’s been a lot of - er - human things on, you know, and I must have just - erm - gotten distracted,” he looked down, picking at his cuticles while his insides squirmed under Gabriel’s haughty gaze.

“This just keeps happening, Aziraphale,” Gabriel said with a sigh.

Tears pricked at the angel’s eyes and he blinked rapidly, “I know, Gabriel, and I’m so, so sorry. Really!”

“We’re beginning to think you aren’t taking your position seriously. There have been concerns about you … from up there,” he said, needlessly pointing towards the ceiling.

Aziraphale’s stomach did a nervous little flip-flop. This was starting to sound dangerously like a demotion was at stake, rather than a typical reprimand. He gave the Archangel an imploring look, “Oh, I am taking it seriously!” _Please, please don’t send me back to Heaven. Don’t take all this away!_ “Please, Gabriel. I’m begging you. Please, give me another chance. It won’t happen again. I promise!”

Gabriel took a deep breath and crossed his arms. “I don’t know, Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale wrung his hands frantically. “Oh, please! Y-you don’t want to have to r-replace me, do you? That would be so much work. The selection, the training, the _paperwork_.”

The Archangel’s face contorted in obvious distaste. _Yes, that's it! Think about all those nasty forms and filings!_

“Well,” Gabriel hedged, “I _may_ be able to get this mess sorted so it blows over. I like you, Aziraphale,” that was certainly news to Aziraphale, and he thought it likely that Gabriel just meant in comparison to additional paperwork. “I’d really like to give you another chance, but …” Gabriel studied his underling angel, tilting his head as an idea seemed to click in his mind. He nodded slowly, clearly on the precipice of a decision.

Aziraphale held his breath, hopeful.

“_But_, you will still need to be reprimanded,” Gabriel said. “I need to be sure you’ve learned your lesson.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale let out his breath, both relieved and deflated. ‘Reprimanded’ was just a fancy word for _punished_ and _punished_ meant _spanked_. Heaven always was big on euphemisms.[1] Aziraphale wasn’t looking forward to a ‘meeting’ between Sandalphon’s paddle and his bare bottom. Though he had to admit that it was better than a demotion back to Heaven to work in the offices of prayer filing or miracle approval.

The wheels in Gabriel’s mind were turning. He sighed and said mostly to himself, “Oh, but we can’t have it on _record_, of course. Not with their doubts about your commitment to the cause. Don’t want to have to give an explanation for why you’re being let off lightly ...” Aziraphale had been _reprimanded_ several times before and certainly didn’t consider it ‘being let off lightly.’ Rather, he considered it having his backside thoroughly bruised and blistered, and then not even being allowed to soothe it with a miracle after.

Gabriel nodded resolutely and said, “Well, I suppose we’ll just have to take care of it now, then. The old fashioned way.”

“Take care of it?” Aziraphale asked, eyebrows raised.

He watched Gabriel slip off his jacket and hang it on the back of Aziraphale’s desk chair, which he then pulled well away from the desk. He plopped down in the seat and looked at Aziraphale expectantly.

Aziraphale gaped at him. “Y-you mean … ?”

Gabriel patted his lap. “I’ll just take care of your reprimand now. We can get it over with, and I can forgive you. Then we can pretend it never happened. I’ll smooth things over, and you can try very, _very_ hard to not disappoint me again. Consider it a warning. Just between the two of us.”

Aziraphale’s cheeks flushed and he swallowed hard, “Oh, um, right now?”

“Yes, of course! And I don't have all day!”

“B-but there are still customers out there!”

Aziraphale gestured lamely towards the shop where he knew several humans still browsed. Gabriel shrugged, and Aziraphale swore he saw the Archangel's lips quirk with a suppressed smile. Aziraphale could tell he was to lose this particular battle. Gabriel _wanted_ him humiliated. If they weren't going to do things by the book, then he had to make it count as much as possible.

“Not my problem, sunshine," Gabriel said. "I’m short on time, so I suggest you get over my knee right now.”

When the Archangel used that tone, there was no room for argument. His authority over Aziraphale was absolute. No more stalling, then.

Aziraphale gave the door to the shop nervous, darting looks, as he reluctantly came to Gabriel’s side. He wordlessly submitted to having his trousers and pants miracled down to his knees (he may have gasped at the _suddenness_ of being bared, but otherwise remained stoic), and then he was pulled over the Archangel’s lap.

Gabriel’s corporeal form was broad and strong, but it still felt awkward to lay bottom up across his thighs. It was a childish, humiliating position for a six thousand year old angel to find himself in. Aziraphale gripped the chair leg, feeling very foolish for ending up in need of such punishment.

Why had he been so irresponsible anyway? Why did Heaven employ corporal punishment? If only they’d realize it was _terribly_ outdated. Of course, pointing that out to an Archangel would only result in a painful reminder of why a good old fashioned spanking could be so effective. Aziraphale stared at the pattern on the rug with a petulant pout, resigned to his fate.

“Looking a little plump, aren’t we?” Gabriel chided, patting Aziraphale’s bare rump.

Aziraphale stiffened, instinctively squeezing his buttocks together as his ears burned in embarrassment. _How rude! _It was bad enough to have his bare bum displayed for punishment, did he need to be insulted, as well? He was about to answer, to make some excuse or explanation or intention, but his brain shorted out when Gabriel’s solid palm lifted and then smacked down _hard_ against his tensed cheeks without so much as a ‘this is going to hurt me more than it hurts you’ warning. Gabriel followed up quickly with a second smack, and then settled into the steady rhythm of a sound spanking. Aziraphale quickly forgot his offense at the shock of those initial stinging blows.

It was a struggle, but Aziraphale managed to keep relatively still and quiet as the Archangel took him in hand. It was bad enough the smacks were so _loud_ that surely any humans left in the shop could hear, he wasn’t going to make it worse by _blubbering_. Would the humans wonder what was going on? Or would they _know_? Could they tell that a naughty angel was getting his bare bottom spanked bright red?

And he truly was. Gabriel’s hand was _hard_. Aziraphale’s backside was really heating up, and he couldn’t help but wiggle his hips from side to side in a futile attempt to escape the relentless spanks. Regardless, Gabriel never missed, delivering smack after smack to every spankable portion of angel hindquarters (including the backs of his thighs, which really wasn’t fair at all!)

This was decidedly _different_ from a typical reprimand which was always conducted with plenty of impersonal distance. In contrast, lying over the Archangel’s lap was _intimate_, and Aziraphale felt incredibly focused on Gabriel’s palm making repeated contact with his chubby buttocks, the flesh rippling and reddening from the punishing attention. In that moment, his world was nothing more than hot, stinging, bruising skin against exposed, vulnerable, _naughty_ skin.

Aziraphale was really starting to suffer, bottom engulfed in stinging agony. He squirmed, unsure if he would be able to keep quiet much longer when suddenly, the Archangel stopped. _Oh, phew. Well, that wasn’t so bad after all._

“Now,” Gabriel murmured to himself, “Where to get a … hmm … well, miracling one up might be noticed upstairs … better to keep it off the logs … ” then, to the angel over his knees, “Aziraphale? Do you have anything I could use for a rod?”

_Oh merciful God._ He was asking for a _paddle_. That meant that they weren’t even halfway finished he realized in horror. His stinging bottom throbbed in apprehension of even more _reprimanding_ to come.

“U-um,” Aziraphale wracked his brain and fought the hesitance at giving Gabriel an implement for the sole purpose of continuing to scald his already sore buttocks. “I think I may have a - a ruler. In the desk drawer.”

He wasn’t even sure why he _had_ the ruler, though now he was very much regretting it. He’d never used the thing. It had just seemed like something a desk drawer ought to have. Now, it seemed like twelve wooden inches of evil incarnate that was going to absolutely roast his poor bottom.

Aziraphale winced at the thought and wanted nothing more than to jump up and run away. But he knew better. He felt Gabriel shift and reach, heard the desk drawer open and then a careless rifling through his belongings before “Aha!” Gabriel had found it.

“Well,” Gabriel said, “It’s no holy paddle, but I think I can make do.”

With a small _crack!_ and a flash of light, Gabriel had blessed the ruler, infusing it with holy retribution. Such a blessed implement would certainly burn a demon, but it would only pack a little extra sting when applied sharply to a naughty angel's hindquarters. Especially if the one wielding it thought himself to be imparting a righteous, moral argument. Which Gabriel most certainly did.

Aziraphale felt the narrow strip of wood tap gently against his exposed skin. He swallowed thickly. He felt nothing but air, and then _smack! Smack! Smack!_ Gabriel made a _very _convincing moral argument directly to Aziraphale's bare bum as the makeshift paddle scorched the tender flesh. All attempts at stoicism flew right out the window, and his howls rang throughout the shop.

Gabriel really put his back into the paddling, painting the angel’s buttocks and thighs with bands of welts. Pink, at first, and then dark red. Aziraphale bucked and kicked, but the Archangel held him down firmly in place, seeing him thoroughly chastised.

It was just as bad as one of Sandalphon’s reprimands. Worse at that moment since _those_ spankings had all been in the past whereas this one was happening _right now_ and Aziraphale’s backside was simply on _fire_! The ruler smacked his bottom loudly, Aziraphale wailed and shouted, and the remaining bookshop patrons[2] had no doubt about what was happening in the back room, though they were a bit puzzled by the shop owner’s choice of timing and location for such indulgences.

Gabriel finished up with several extra crisp, sharp swats of the consecrated ruler while Aziraphale desperately drummed his feet against the floor and squealed in agony. Finally, he realized he was no longer being struck, and he heard Gabriel toss the implement onto the desk. The tension left Aziraphale’s body, and he slumped over the Archangel’s thighs. Tears spilled down his cheeks and he sniffled pitifully. His bottom was a red, welted, stinging disaster, puffy and throbbing. It turned out Sandalphon wasn’t the only one who could deliver a savage smiting.

Gabriel awkwardly patted Aziraphale’s heaving back. “Yes, yes, you’re forgiven, Aziraphale. There, now. Up you go!”

Aziraphale was hauled up, struggling to stand on wobbly legs and wiping at his flushed, wet face. He resisted the urge to rub at his inflamed buttocks. That wasn't allowed with Sandalphon, so he assumed it wouldn't be allowed here either. Gabriel stood as well, brushed off his slacks and put his jacket back on. He turned to Aziraphale and placed his hands on the angel’s shoulders.

“I want you to know that this hurt me more than it hurt you,” _Ah, of course._ Aziraphale very much doubted that. “So I really hope you’ve learned your lesson and will be a little less forgetful in the future. Understood?”

Aziraphale nodded, hands by his side, bottom lip wobbling. He was the picture of contrition. “Of course, I’m sorry, Gabriel. Thank you.”

Gabriel made his way to the door, but then seemed to remember something, popping back beside Aziraphale. “Oh, right, before I forget - just because this was off the record, that doesn’t mean I won’t know if you try to heal yourself with a miracle. So don’t. Capiche?” He raised his eyebrows.

“Er, right. Of course.”

“Good angel,” Gabriel clapped Aziraphale on the shoulder and then left.

Aziraphale gingerly pulled his trousers back up, only half-fastening them. Then, despite looking a complete wreck - mussed hair, clothing rumpled, red face (not to mention a, thankfully hidden, red, swollen bottom), he came out from the back room to deal with any lingering humans.

He cleared his throat loudly and said, “I’m sorry, but the shop is now _closed_!” He ignored the strange looks, the half-cocked, _knowing_ smiles, and the uncomfortable averted gazes. “Please,” he puffed out his cheeks in annoyance. “Get out!”

With minimal grumbling, the would-be customers abandoned their books and filed quickly out the door. The little show they'd inadvertently overheard would be an interesting story to tell. And would give a couple of them a nice bit of fantasy fodder for weeks to come. Aziraphale swallowed his pride and considered it another notch on his good deeds tally.

With a miracle, he locked the door behind them. He then darted back to his desk and - _standing_, of course - picked up the phone receiver and placed a call. He sighed and closed his eyes, rubbing gently at his sore, well-spanked bottom as he listened impatiently to the ringing in his ear until it finally clicked.

“Yes?”

“If you wouldn’t mind, terribly, could you please … at your earliest convenience … come over?”

“On my way, Angel.”

**Author's Note:**

> 1This is part of the reason why the Bible and other holy texts are such a confusing mess.[return to text]
> 
> 2Several of the original patrons who had been shopping when Gabriel arrived had already ducked out when things started to feel a little bit more Fifty Shades of Grey than the antique literature had advertised.[return to text]
> 
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/HipHopAnonymou9)
> 
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